Dorothy Clark (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

D
awn was no more than a promise behind the heavy, overcast sky as Cole joined the loggers gathered at the foot of the hill. A short, burly man with a scar that started at the corner of his left eye and ran over his prominent cheekbone to disappear into a curly red beard stepped out in front of the small group.

“You men know why you were chosen to come here this morning. This is the hardest, most dangerous climb in the area, and you’re the best climbers we’ve got. It’s not likely Allyson—or whatever his name is—would’ve come here, but it’s the only place left to search, and we’ve got to find him, lest he escape and hurt another woman.”

A low growling sound rose from the bearded faces of the assembled loggers.

Allyson.
Aylward.
Cole’s face tightened. The man was wrong. If this was the most dangerous hill to climb, it’s exactly where Payne would choose. His brother was as sure-footed as a mountain goat.

He stared at the steep, forested face of the hill, tugged up his collar and hunched his shoulders against the cold mist that seemed to sink right through his clothes and skin to his bones. Payne would have made a nest of old leaves or pine boughs to sleep in through the storm last night, and though he would have broken the nest down and strewn the leaves and boughs around, there would be signs. He intended to find them and follow them straight to Payne. His brother had almost killed that poor woman. His own brother.
God, what has happened to Payne? I have to know!
Could it ever happen to him? The knots in his stomach twisted tighter.

“...split into pairs. Taylor, you and Morgan take the creek. Foster, you and Benson take Stony Bend—” the burly man’s hamlike hand waved through the air, his thick finger pointing in various directions “—Clemons, you and North take Dead Man Spring. Aylward, you say you’re a climber?”

He dipped his head, holding the man’s steely gaze with his own. “I’ll get to wherever I need to go.”
Lead me to him, Lord.

“All right, then, you come with me along Devil’s Drop. The rest of you, spread out and search along the bottom of the hill. And keep a sharp eye out. Allyson’s a woodsman, and we don’t want him doubling back and slipping away.”

The crowd of men broke up, fanning out along the bottom of the hill and starting into the woods.

“This way, Aylward.” The burly man turned and plowed into the woods.

Cole looked ahead as far as he could see through the thick trees and detected a faint, narrow trail that led straight up the left side of a steep-sided cut on the right that appeared to sever the hill. No need to keep watch that way. Not even Payne could cling to those smooth walls of stone.

He scanned the area to his left, studying the trail and the man ahead. He was setting a good pace. “Have you got a name, in case I have to call you?”

“Kelly.”

The word was curt, cold. Obviously, Kelly had reservations about him as Payne’s brother. He’d probably told him to come along with him so he could keep watch on him. His mind flashed back to Pinewood four years ago, to the cold, suspicious treatment he’d received from the village men as they’d searched the hills. And he thought of Sadie. Beautiful, warm—

He shoved her image out of his head, timed his breaths, rolled his shoulders to relax them and bent his knees as he hit his climbing stride. Thinking of Sadie wouldn’t find Payne, but it might get him injured or killed if he made a misstep because of lack of attention.

* * *

Sadie swished the soapy cloth in and around the chimney globe, then dipped the globe in the pan of hot rinse water and set it to drain with the others on the towel.

She cast a quick glance at her grandmother taking all of the clean flatware out of the cupboard drawer again and snatched up a towel to dry the globes and carry them to the butler’s pantry before she came and put them back in the water.

Her temples throbbed. She placed the globes on the clean, trimmed bases, took two of the lamps into the dining room and set them on the mantel, turning them so the knobs were on the inside facing each other as Nanna liked before returning to the pantry.

The cold off the small glass panes of the window chilled her face, neck and hands. She glanced at the relentless drizzle falling from the gray sky and shivered. Where was Cole? Was he out in the wet and the cold? Was he in danger?

A ripple quivered through her already upset stomach.
Please keep Cole safe, Almighty God. And please let him find the truth that will set him free of his fears.

The tears that were so ready to fall stung the backs of her eyes. She blinked them away and took another hold on her emotions that were too raw to stay controlled, picked up two more lamps and carried them into the sitting room.

She had suffered physical fear for four years, and Cole’s kindness and consideration of her grandparents had broken the grip of that fear. Now there was a new fear inside her—the fear of losing Cole. How had her love for him grown so strong when she hadn’t even realized it was happening?

She gazed around the room, searching for something to do. There was no more work to be done. Her cleaning frenzy had taken care of that. She picked up the book she’d been reading, thumbed the pages and put it down again. She was too restless to play checkers. And she couldn’t walk in the garden in the rain. There was only one thing she wanted...one thing that would satisfy her—to be with Cole.

How she longed to hear the back door open and his boot heels thump against the hall floor. But not tonight. Tonight it would be Matthew who came to help her grandfather.

Poppa.
She hadn’t checked on him since dinner. He’d become quite independent thanks to his rolling chair—and Cole. She lifted her hands and rubbed at her temples, closed her eyes and breathed deep to stop the roll of nausea. Everything she thought of brought her back to Cole. Her heart swelled, ached.

She walked to the partially open library door and peeked into the room. Her grandfather was sitting by the hearth in his rolling chair, cracking hickory nuts on the flat stone he’d lifted onto his lap, the book she had given him open on the butterfly table. Cole had restored some of Poppa’s independence. It was a precious gift. How wonderful that he might also be able to do the same for others.

Her pulse pounded, increasing the pain in her temples. Would he truly sell his shingle mill and move to New York City to begin a new business making the chairs there? Could she begrudge him that success? Not if she truly loved him.

She caught back a sob, whirled and hurried down the hall to the kitchen. Nanna and Gertrude were busy with a pudding. She grabbed an old cape off a peg by the door, swirled it around her shoulders and went out on the porch to pray.

* * *

The path had grown treacherous, slick with clay. Cole pushed a tree limb out of his way, shivered as water from the leaves dripped down his neck. His shirt was dry for the most part, thanks to his rain jacket, but his pants were soaked from brushing against low-hanging branches and his boots were heavy with clinging mud.

He stopped and looked around, checked his back trail. He had no desire to be lost in a strange woods with nightfall approaching. And he didn’t wholly trust Kelly’s goodwill toward him. The stigma of him being Payne’s brother colored the man’s opinion. He was tolerant...but that was all.

Frustration gnawed at him. He swiped the moisture from his brow and blinked his eyes. He’d seen no signs of human passage on this narrow game path. And it was exactly the sort of place Payne would choose, difficult and dangerous enough to make anyone who was trailing him give up the chase.

“You thinking about quitting?”

Kelly’s question grated against his strained patience. “No.” He looked upward through the trees, putting himself in Payne’s position. “Where does this game path lead? How would it benefit him in getting away? He can only stay in the hills so long.”

Kelly studied him a minute, then scratched at his beard. “The path leads clear to the top of the hill and down the other side, but that’s got more bare area.” He waved his meaty hand through the air crosswise. “If he veers off near the top and walks the ridge, he goes clean into hills of thick forest—still lots of Indians hunt there—with the Allegheny flowing around their feet. He could come down any place he chose, make himself a raft and float on downriver to Pittsburgh.”

He nodded and looked toward the ridge. “If I were trying to get away from someone without being seen, that’s what I would do.” He drew his gaze back to Kelly. “What are our chances of catching him?”

“They’re middling here on the path. That’s the reason we been pushing so hard. If he reaches those forests ahead of us, our chances fall to next to nothing. There wouldn’t be any point in going in there after him.” He scratched at his beard again. “Best thing then would be to watch the water.”

“All right then, we’d better pick up the pace if we’re going to overtake him on this path.”

Kelly nodded and started off up the trail, looking back over his shoulder. “You mind if I ask what’s between you and your brother that you want to catch him so bad?”

“The answer to a question.” His voice sounded grim, even to himself. He pointed to a small cut with big rocks and boulders shoving out of the earth a short distance ahead and off to the right. “Is that where the path veers onto the ridge?”

“No. That cut goes along for a bit, then ends in a sheer drop-off.”

“Any way out of there?”

“Not ’less you’re a mountain goat.”

His instincts reared. His gut tightened. “Let’s take a look at that cut.”

Kelly shrugged his massive shoulders and veered right.

He followed the logger until they reached the cut, then stepped up beside him. “I’ll lead now, Kelly. It’s my idea to follow along here. If there’s danger I’m the one who should face it.”

The older man nodded, looked at him with a flash of respect in his eyes. “If that’s what you want, but be careful—them stones ain’t always fixed as solid in the ground as they look. You don’t want to start this whole side hill to sliding.”

“I’ll watch.” He turned and climbed over a couple of large rocks, slipped around a boulder and out onto a narrow ledge. The ground fell away in a series of slate shelves. He started along the top shelf, stopped and stared down at a scraped area in the dirt at the edge of the shale. His heart thudded. No animal had made that mark. It looked as if a boot had slipped. He slid his gaze along the shelf until he spotted another, smaller scrape. A scrape made by a grasping hand?

His pulse jolted, raced. He knelt and looked over the edge of the shelf. Bile rose, burning his throat.

“He down there?”

Sorrow gripped him. And anger. Now, he’d never know. He nodded and took a breath. If he had ever had a chance for a life with Sadie by his side, it was gone.

“Looks like he slipped, then grabbed hold trying to save hisself.”

“Yes.” He pushed to his feet, remembering all their forays into the woods as boys. “Something must have happened. Payne never slipped or stumbled.” An image of a young, grinning Payne looking at him over his shoulder and calling to him to come on flashed into his head. “He was very sure-footed.”

“Not when he was drunk.”

The words wiped away the image and landed like stones in his stomach. He turned his head and stared at Kelly. “What did you say?”

“I said Allyson wasn’t sure-footed when he was drunk. He staggered around same as any other man when he’d had too much of the hard stuff.”

“Payne didn’t drink.” His words were quiet, measured.

Kelly stared up at him. “He did if he’s Allyson. And a shame it was. He was a good worker and a friendly sort when he was sober, but he turned ugly mean when he was drinking.”

Like our father.
Cole fisted his hands, sucked in air and found himself hoping in the excuse. “Was he drinking the night he attacked the young woman?”

Kelly nodded, looked around. “He was in town drinking and got in a fight with a couple of loggers. He attacked the woman on his way back to camp. Course, then he run off—and us after him soon’s we learned what he’d done. Ah, there it is.”

Kelly bent down and reached under one of the stubby pine trees fighting for life on the rock shelf and picked up a pewter flask. “See for yourself.”

Cole took the flask into his hand and uncorked it, jerked his head back at the hated smell. Memories surged. His father beating his mother, turning his fists on Payne and on him. Payne swearing he’d never be a drunk like their father... His fingertips touched an engraving on the smooth metal. He turned the flask over and stared at the initials
P.A.
etched into the pewter. “What did my brother—or Allyson—say his given name was?”

“Paul.” Kelly motioned below. “You sure that’s your brother?”

“Yes. That’s Payne.”

Kelly stepped closer and went to his knees. “Guess there’s only one more thing to do, then.” He braced himself and looked over the edge of the shelf, rose and brushed the dirt from his hands. “That’s Allyson. Guess they’re the same man. I’m sorry, Aylward.”

So am I.
He nodded, stared down at the flask in his hand.
Thank You, Lord, for answering my question.

“There’s no way we can get him up from there, you know.”

Kelly’s words brought a hollow ache to his chest. “I know.” He stepped close to the edge and closed his eyes, his heart hurting at the ruin and loss of his brother’s life. He cleared his throat and looked up. There was nothing below him but the empty shell of the man who might have been. “Almighty God, may You have mercy on Payne. He was a good brother when we were young. I pray he rests in peace. Amen.”

He uncorked the flask again as his words died away, held it out beyond the ledge and poured out the contents, then corked it and put it in his pocket. “I’ll keep this to remember.”

He turned to retrace their steps, his boots scraping against the shale as he led the way over the rocks and out of the cut that was his brother’s grave.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

C
ole scooped grain into the bucket on the stall floor and forked some fresh hay into the manger, burdened and weary with sorrow and regret for Payne and for his mother and father. The loss of his older brother was enervating—the waste of his life infuriating.

Anger shook him. He stepped out into the warm, dusky night, barred the stable door and walked to the sawmill. Payne had known the devastation and horror liquor could cause. He’d seen their mother being beaten, and he’d been the recipient of the blows from their drunken father’s abusing fists. He’d sworn he would never be like him. So why had Payne ever taken that first drink?

He shoved aside the question he’d never know the answer to and climbed the steps, walked by the silent saws and on through the office to his private quarters. His entire family was gone, their lives wasted, cut short by the liquor that killed them all.

The pewter flask bulged in his pocket. He pulled it out, ran his thumb over his brother’s initials, then set the flask on the shelf over his makeshift washstand. It was all he had left from his family. It was also the answer that set him free to have a family of his own someday. He hated liquor, couldn’t bear the sight or smell of it.

He removed his mud-caked boots, flopped down on the bed and closed his eyes. What Matthew had said when he’d stopped to let the pastor know he was back in town had helped set him free, too—that God was not a dictator, that He allowed men to make their own choices.

Payne had chosen to take that first drink.
He
had chosen not to. He didn’t have to be afraid he might someday follow his father’s and Payne’s path and abuse a woman—especially a woman he loved. He was free to woo Sadie and try to win her for his bride.

Sadie... Warmth swelled in his heart. A smile touched on his lips. Beautiful, sweet, Sadie... He’d see her...tonight...

* * *

Dusk was deepening. Sadie looked up at the last remnant of daylight clinging to the sky above the hills in the west. It would soon be full night, and Matthew wasn’t here. Did that mean Cole was back? She wrapped her arms about herself to hold the hope glimmering to life in her heart.

What had he learned about Payne? Would it change his decision to sell out and move to the city? What would she say to him? No matter what his plans—whether he moved or stayed—she wanted him to know she believed in him and trusted him. She wanted him to know that no matter how he felt, she
knew
he could never be like his father and Payne.
How can I convince him, Lord? What can I do or—

Was that a light? She leaned toward the window, focused on the wooded path. There it was again. A flicker of lamplight through the branches. She froze, stared. That was it!
Thank You, Lord!

She whirled from the window, ran across her bedroom into the hall and raced down the stairs, her heart pounding.

“Sadie, what—”

“Cole’s home!” She ran by her startled grandmother, down the hall and out the dining room door, racing toward the garden path.
Please, Lord, let me be on time!

She threw over the latch, thrust open the gate and ran onto the wooded path. Trees shadowed the way. Darkness closed around her. She slowed her steps, blinked to see better and ran on. She had to reach the bend....

The path curved. Moonlight shone through a space in the overhead branches, puddling on the hard-trod dirt. She stopped to catch her breath. A light flickered through the trees ahead. He was coming.
Please, Lord...

She stepped into the pool of moonlight, listened to his approaching footsteps, watched the lantern light growing and breathed out one more prayer.
Let him know, Lord. Make him know.

* * *

Cole clamped down on his emotions, held himself from running. He’d scare Sadie if she were in the garden and he came bursting out of the woods like some man made crazy by love for her.

He grinned at the truth of the thought, puckered his lips and began to whistle. The lantern threw yellow light against the thick tree trunks and bobbed its glow over the path as he strode around the curve, wobbled as he came to a dead halt.

“Sadie!”
Her name burst from his throat. He stared at her, standing in the middle of the path, moonlight outlining her slender form, shining on her beautiful face. His heart clutched. She would never be on this path if something weren’t horribly wrong. Manning! He stepped forward. “What’s wrong? Why are you here? Is Manning—”

“I came to meet you.”

He froze at the softness in her voice, swallowed hard as she walked toward him.

“I wanted you to know that I’m not afraid of you, Cole. Not now, not ever.”

Her voice broke. He set down the lantern, straightened and jammed his hands in his pockets. His breath caught as she stopped in front of him and looked up.
Her eyes!
Could it be true? His heart lurched, thundered. His hands jerked out of his pockets.

“You are the kindest, gentlest, most caring and loving man I have ever known. Oh, Cole, don’t you see?” Her voice choked to a whisper. “There is nothing for me to fear in you. I love you. You are my safety, my—”

He closed his arms around her waist, lowered his mouth to cover hers and tasted her sweetness. Her lips parted beneath his and her hands slid up from his chest to circle his neck. He lost track of time, of place, of himself. All that existed for him was Sadie and her love.